


jasmine tea

by themetgayla



Category: Ocean’s (Movies), Ocean’s 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Love Confessions, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sickfic, Witchcraft, and then lots of comfort, debbie is ill :(, herbal tea because it’s the bomb, they’re just idiots in love, very mild hurt, witch!lou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15587205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetgayla/pseuds/themetgayla
Summary: Debbie tries to sit up, tries to prop herself up on her elbows and open her mouth to speak, but shecan’t. She realises then that shemightbe sick. Maybe, but not definitely.





	jasmine tea

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this at about 2am this morning because i couldn’t get it out of my damn mind. it’s horribly short and probably riddled with errors, but i thought i better upload it because there are _not_ enough fics for our heist wives.
> 
> enjoy it, if you can.

When Debbie opens her eyes to see Lou curled up in the armchair by her bed, thumbing through a suspiciously embroidered book, her bright eyes squinted slightly in concentration, her tongue peeking out shyly from between her glossy lips, her first instinct is to panic. She’s seen the blonde reading those books, the books on  _ witchcraft.  _ It’s not that she’s against witches, because she’s  _ not _ , she swears, but it’s just  _ weird  _ to imagine Lou, her partner, her best friend, the love of her life, worshipping deities and performing rituals while locked up in her bedroom.

The thought of it is just  _ weird _ . And maybe a little cool.

Debbie tries to sit up, tries to prop herself up on her elbows and open her mouth to speak, but she  _ can’t. _ She realises then that she  _ might  _ be sick. Maybe, but not definitely. Rolling her eyes — because of  _ course  _ she’s sick as soon as the heist is over — the brunette collapses back down immediately, her hair splaying out messily across the soft pillowcase as a quiet whimper escapes her lips and shatters the peaceful silence. Lou snaps her head up from her book immediately, her eyes wide with surprise, and dives forward, her lips twitching with concern.

“Debbie, are you okay? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? I’m so sorry Debs, I hate it when you’re sick. Do you need medicine? How about some toast? Wait, are you in pain?” The words tumble from Lou’s mouth in an incoherent jumble, the worry clouding her tone until Debbie almost wants to reach out and pull the frantic blonde into her arms and soothe the tension away.

Debbie presses her head into her pillow and sighs softly, letting the comforting warmth of her bed pull her eyelids shut, the scent of Lou’s Old Spice cologne and her own vanilla shampoo filling her senses.  _ Ah, so peaceful and— _

Oh. She hasn’t replied, and now Lou is staring at her, eyes so wide Debbie’s worried they’re going to pop out of her head any second. “Lou,” she croaks, wincing as her throat tightens, and a painful burn spreads down to her lungs. Even breathing seems to hurt. Within seconds, Lou crashes to her knees, ignoring the dull crack that reverberates around the room, and slides her hands up to Debbie’s cheeks, the pads of her thumbs stroking over warm, flushed cheekbones.

Lou finds herself noticing details about Debbie she’s never even seen before, like the light smattering of freckles under her eyes, and the tiny shards of gold that glint and sparkle in her hazel orbs. She scolds herself for not noticing sooner, because it just makes her fall even more in love. 

(Usually Lou would run at even the fleeting thought of something as stupid and reckless as love. Something so fragile and downright ludicrous. A promise that can be broken in mere seconds. But here she is, head-over-heels for Debbie goddamn Ocean, and for once, she doesn’t want to run.)

“I’ll get you some tea baby, hang on.” Neither acknowledge the affectionate pet name that falls easily from Lou’s lips, a word spoken so frequently it should probably scare her. The blonde wonders if Debbie is simply too sick to even register it, but judging by the way her lips quirk up in a tiny bit genuine smile, it’s clear that it didn’t go unnoticed.

Pushing it from her mind, Lou darts out of the room and thumps down the stairs, her thick black book tucked securely under her arm. Debbie watches her go, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading in her stomach like syrup — she never thought it would be possible for her to fall even more in love with Lou, but seeing the blonde crash around the house in concern, hovering by her side ready to cater for her every need, has her heart swelling and her stomach flipping wildly.

Minutes later, Lou walks back into the room, a glass mug of pale orange liquid clasped in one hand, and that damn book held securely in the other. Debbie stares at the mug suspiciously, her eyes flicking down to the book and back upwards, wondering if this strangely coloured concoction is even safe to drink. “Is it— Is it safe to drink?”

“It’s Jasmine Tea, of course it is. Is there something wrong with that?” Lou sets the mug down on the wooden coaster on Debbie’s nightstand, and perches carefully on the end of the bed, taking care to keep her long limbs to herself. She drums her fingers nervously on the cover of her book, the soft tap-tapping of her blunt nails keeping her somewhat focused.

Debbie pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down harshly, letting out a strangled moan as she shifts, trying to prop herself up in bed. Before the brunette can attempt to get comfortable, Lou darts into the bathroom and soaks a washcloth in tepid water, before ringing it out and reappearing at her side. “Here,” Lou mumbles, placing the damp cloth carefully on Debbie’s forehead, her slender fingers brushing delicately other the older woman’s hot skin. “Do you want some tea?”

Nodding silently, Debbie allows her lips to curl up into a small smile, her chocolate eyes impossibly soft, despite the sweat beading on her flushed skin, and the slight tremble in her hands. Lou grabs the tea and hands it to the brunette, making sure her clammy hands are wrapped around the hot mug safely before letting go. The blonde hovers at Debbie’s side, staring expectantly at the cup of sweet tea, worry flickering in her eyes.

“Can I, um, ask what’s in this?”

Lou frowns, her eyebrows creasing as she slides her hand up to tug at the hem of her loose shirt. “Why? It’s just loose-leaf tea,” she replies, confusion lacing her tone. She doesn’t understand why Debbie is always so hesitant to eat or drink anything she makes — she puts  _ time  _ and  _ effort  _ into everything she does, and even she has to admit, her food is  _ amazing _ .

(It probably has a lot to do with the constant cleansing and warding she does, making sure to wave her sage incense sticks around the kitchen at least twice a week, and putting up wards every time she cooks. She also takes great time and care preparing her food, using herbs and spices she knows will benefit her and Debbie, depending on what they need that day.

Cooking excites her — the thought of being able to help Debbie through something as subtle and tasty as food fills her with an overwhelming joy she can’t really explain. It’s  _ weird _ , to say the least.)

“I’ve seen your books, Lou,” Debbie starts, her voice steady despite the uncomfortable crackling at the back of her throat. Lou wants to be able to focus on her best friends illness, wants to escape to the kitchen and whip up some tasty soup, wants to run and push her crystals into Debbie’s hands, but she  _ can’t. _

She’s frozen, eyes wide with something akin to fear, her body tensing so violently she thinks she might just explode.

Debbie can see the panic coasting through Lou’s veins, feel the fear pulsing behind her eyes, hear her heart hammering wildly in her chest.  _ Shit.  _ She didn’t expect  _ this  _ reaction. Resting the mug back on the coaster, the brunette shakily tucks a strand of soft, dark hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. (It ends up sounding more like a painful rattle, but it goes ignored.)

“Lou, it’s okay. I don’t care — that you’re a witch, I mean. It’s actually pretty cool. A bit weird though, but still cool.” Debbie isn’t lying; she’s always been intrigued by the “supernatural”, things that don’t conform to society’s standards and expectations. 

Before stumbling across one of Lou’s “Guide to Magickal Healing” books — of which there are many — Debbie hadn’t even known that witches were still a thing. And finding out that her best friend and love of her life is a witch? Well, it’s pretty badass, if you ask her.

Lou blinks rapidly, her bright eyes suddenly glistening with something that look suspiciously like tears, and takes a hesitant step forward. “You don’t hate me?”

And then Debbie’s heart  _ breaks _ , because how the  _ hell _ could Lou think she’d  _ ever  _ hate her.

“Oh baby, of course I don’t hate you. I love you.” The words slip out, hanging dangerously in the silence before Debbie even has time to realise the weight of what she’s just said.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ .  _ What the hell were you thinking, Ocean? Now she’s going to leave, just like you did six years ago. You deserve it. You deserve a lot worse. _

“You— A-Are you joking? I swear to god Debbie, if this— if this is a fucking joke I’m going to _murder_ you,” Lou chokes, tears pricking at the corners of her baby blue eyes as she sinks down on the edge of the bed and drops her head into her hands, digging her fingers painfully into her skull.

Debbie wants to to pull the younger woman into her arms and hold her close forever, but when she reaches out to do so, she’s reminded of the burning lump in her throat, and the deep-rooted ache in her bones. Determined to do  _ something _ , Debbie reaches out as far as she can and intertwines her fingers with Lou’s, the cool softness of the blonde’s palms providing a nice change to her warm, sweaty ones.

“I’m not joking, Lou, I swear. I love you, and I’m tired of hiding it. I love you no matter what,” Debbie assures, her voice hoarse but sincere. Turning her head into her bicep as her mouth widens in a sudden yawn, she squeezes Lou’s hand gently, a gesture they’d developed early on in their partnership to show sincerity and comfort.

Debbie’s body feels very heavy all of a sudden, and she winces as her face contorts into another yawn, her eyelids drooping involuntarily. Lou allows her lips to stretch up into a grin, her ocean eyes lighting up as she returns Debbie’s squeeze enthusiastically. “I love you too, Debs.”

When she gets no response, Lou turns her head to see Debbie dozing peacefully, her head tipped back against the headboard, her lips parted slightly, puffing out with each quietly huffed breath. The blonde can’t help the soft  _ aww  _ that slips from her lips, because Debbie like this, so open and vulnerable, is possibly the most adorable thing she’s ever seen.

(And she’s seen a mewling litter of newborn kittens, Debbie in an oversized Marvel t-shirt, and a puppy walking on its hind legs.)

Lou carefully maneuvers Debbie so she’s resting more comfortably on her silky pillows, arranging her slender limbs in a way she hopes isn’t too awkward. Then, she pulls the duvet and comforter over the brunette, making sure to drop a kiss on her clammy forehead.

After whispering  _ I love you  _ once more, Lou settles back down in the armchair next to Debbie’s bed, and reaches for her book, now reading about the healing properties of herbs with the knowledge that Debbie loves her, witchcraft and all.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! you can also follow my witchblr @cauldronoftea (yes, i’m a witch.)


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